The Coming Of Lyon-Oh The King
by Ach271
Summary: Thundercats Conan style. Serious Tygra, Cheetarah, and Claudus bashing. LiMyra pairing. Rating T, may (BIG may) become M later on. I own neither Conan the barbarian nor Thundercats.


Prologue:

Now dear reader I take you far away, across the vast lightless gulfs of space, to a world very different from our own. In a city on this planet there is a palace, and in that palace, in a room in the left wing, there is a being, upon whose shoulders have rested the fates of empires.

The room into which we gaze is large and ornate, with richly embroidered tapestries on polished panel walls, deep piled rugs on the ivory floor, and the lofty ceiling adorned with intricate carvings and gold filigree. Behind an heavy, gold inlaid ivory writing table, sits a creature who may, at first glance, with his steely muscles and hard edged stare, seem out of place in these luxuriant surroundings, though these had been the halls of his distant youth. He seemed more to belong to the wild, untamed places of the world than the marbled walls of the palace that was his current abode. His slightest movement seemed to speak of steel-spring muscles perfectly knit to the sword keen mind of a fighting man. there was nothing deliberate or measured about his movements, either he was perfectly at rest - still as an iron statue - or else he was in motion, not with the jerky quickness of over-tense nerves, but with a panther-like speed that blurred the eye that tried to follow him.

He was clothed in garments of rich material but simple make, a silken tunic and sandals laced up to the knee, he wore no ornaments save a gold ring in his right ear, and his long aubern mane was bound by a simple cloth-of- gold band around his high brow. now he laid down the platinum in-laid stylus with which he had been laboriously writing, rested his chin on the back of his propped up hand, and fixed his piercing blue eyes enviously on the being infront of him. This person was occupied with his own affairs at the moment, for he was taking up the lacing of his gold-chased armor and abstractly whistling - a rather unconventional occupation seeing as he was in the presence of a king whose writ ran across an entire planet.

"Wylle-Khat" he said "these twisting and turnings of statecraft weary me as all the years of fighting I've seen never have."

"All part of the game, sire" answered the brown-eyed feline. "You are king - you must play the part,"

"How many times have I told you not to call me that when we are alone." "Thirty-two at last count." stated the now grinning Wylle-Khat. "My Whiskers I wish I could ride with you to Kaynai," said Lyon-Oh enviously. "it feels like ages since my arse has seen a saddle - but my wife says affairs in the city require my attention, damnit."

He then let out a tired sigh, "When I overthrew the old regime," he continued, speaking with the ease of familiarity which existed only between Wylle and himself, "it was easy enough, though it seemed bitter work at the time. Loking back now over the wild days of my youth, all those days of toil, intrigue, battle and death seem like a dream."

"Now I know that I did not dream far enough, I had thought only to kill the king and cease the attempts on our lives, But now I am saddled with my fathers kingdom and more besides. I had not thought that the nobles would fight me so over every little thing, this baron wants that earls lands for the rich mines there-on, so he cooks up some fool story about how his rival is still loyal to my father, and then I have to have my Law-Keepers investigate and that usually brings out a thousand more problems, which the nobles try to refuse to admit even exist, and the whole bloody thing ends up taking months to sort out, and by then there are a whole _new _crop of cases to worry about." He growled. "and the people, don't get my started on the people, when I killed my father, then they hailed me as a hero, now they spit at my shadow. They put a statue of that swine in the temple of the gods, and people go and wail before it, hailing him as a saintly monarch done in by a red-handed kinslayer. When my armies where victorious, then

they sang my praises. But now they go and burn incense in Claudus's memory, men his guards maimed and blinded, women who were ripped from their homes and sent to be raped in the barracks, and their only crime was to speak my name in the hearing of the secret police. The fickle fools."

"It Is mainly Rigar-Os fault," answered Wylle-Khat, drawing his sword belt up another notch, "He sings songs that make folk act mad. I keep saying that you should have killed him when he first started this. Let him make rimes for the dead."

Lyon-Oh shook his head sadly. " No, my friend, he's beyond my reach. His songs are mightier than my sword, for he has near ripped the heart fom my chest with what he chooses to sing for me. I will die and be forgotten, but his songs will last forever." "No, it is something else. It feels as though there is some undercurrent of which we are not aware, some nameless unrest within the kingdom. I feel like I am sitting by a small fire in the wilderness, hearing stealthy feet padding and almost seeing the glimmer of watching eyes."

"You are being paranoied, let them snarl! The army is ours, and the Black Sycorax's, and every rouge in thunderra and else-where swears by you. Your only danger is assassination, and that's unlikely, with soldiers of the royal troop around you day and night, men and women you hand picked yourself I might add." "These are doubt's born of this cursed gloom we have had recently. In this fog little wonder you are so damned moody."

"Unlike you I see." Said the king.

"You know I never let a little thing like the weather get me down. Well, I'll quaff a cup of Dog-wine for you at Heinu's court."

"Good," grunted the king."but, uh, make eyes at his neice for yourself, lest you involve the states." He laughed as his friend muttered in embarrassment and left, swinging the ivory door closed behind him.

Then the king started to feel nostalgic and his thoughts started to turn to the days of his rootless youth...

End Of Chapter


End file.
